


The Phantom

by sleepingintheunderworld



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Avengers don't come until the end, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Torture, Logan is definitely not a mobster, Main character is kind of an ass, Major Original Character(s), Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protagonist has OCD, Really confusing backstory, Sass sass and more sass, Suicidal Thoughts, X-Men are scattered here and there, profanities
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 12:43:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8056876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepingintheunderworld/pseuds/sleepingintheunderworld
Summary: "I don't think you understand this situation.""I understand it, I just don't give a shit."
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In a world run by mobs and their leaders, life is a struggle for everyone. Mutants, especially. Which is where Jack comes in. Jack Hollander works for one of the most powerful mobs in the world, run by a ruthless leader. When suddenly shipped to Australia to fix a problem that doesn't even concern him, he realizes there are people with more secrets than him.





	1. Chapter I Part I

"I'm not going to kill you, if that's what you're thinking."  
I dragged my eyes up from the corner. It was almost an exhausting task. When we made eye contact, he had to clear his throat. He wasn't here to kill me. I was aware. They were aware I couldn't be killed unless they really, really, really, really tried. I wasn't yet sure how much it took, but I'd figure it out eventually. If I stayed in this room any longer, I might even die of boredom. There wasn't much you could do if both hands were handcuffed to the table. Except maybe chew them off.  
No, he wasn't going to kill me. He couldn't kill me. I didn't care why he was there. I knew, but didn't care. To talk to me. He and the rest of the pigs were convinced I was the person they were looking for.  
The man across from me was well-groomed, well-cared for, well-everything I wasn't. His suit clean, like he'd put it on only just before he'd entered the room. Which I, upon glancing at the clock for the umpteenth time, noticed was over an hour ago. Well over. His hair was gelled just enough for it to glisten more than normal, combed back almost perfectly. Hardly a hair out of place, except that small strand that fell over his face. Upon reflection, that strand may not have been out of place at all. He hadn't moved to fix it. He was neatly shaven, his blue eyes fixed on me. I could see almost fear in them. Considering who he thought I was, it was normal. Not that he was wrong.  
"Are you listening to me?"  
I couldn't be bothered to nod. I just shut my eyes for a moment. When I opened them, I brought them back to rest on his face. He stared at me, I stared at him.  
"Are you listening?"  
I let out a dry laugh, turning to stare at the wall to my side--not the one with the glass, I really didn't feel like looking at whoever was behind it, even if I couldn't see them--and shook my head slightly.  
"What's so funny?"  
"You weren't talking." I finally spoke. My voice was hoarse, probably due to the fact that I hadn't slept in almost a week. Or because I hadn't had a drop to drink in the three days I'd been in this bloody building. I was thirsty, and swallowing my saliva didn't make my throat any less parched. What saliva I had was, at that point, drier than the air around me.  
"I was." He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back into his chair.  
"Then I guess I wasn't listening."  
A sarcastic smile spread across my face. I could tell he was struggling not to hit me, and I liked that. The fire in his eyes fueled my rebellion. If they wanted to keep me here against my will, I was going to do anything but cooperate.  
"Look, Jack--" it wasn't even my name. I had been given the alias Jack Hollander when I'd been deported from Europe, for one case at first, then it multiplied into at least twenty and I'd been in the States for almost a year "--we don't even know when you got on this planet. A year ago, your name suddenly popped up in legal birth papers from England. According to the files, you're nineteen. According to the fact that these files were only entered into the system recently, I have reason to believe either you only just landed on this planet recently or you aren't even Jack Hollander."  
"Wow." I raised my eyebrows. "I don't know who you think I am, but clearly I must be some sort of psychopath if both my hands are handcuffed to this table."  
"You have a reputation."  
"Me or someone else with my stunningly good looks?"  
He smirked. I knew they didn't catch me on camera. Even if they did, masks were always in order. Feigning ignorance was my best shot at getting out as soon as possible.  
"You know what's funny?"  
I leaned back into my chair, realizing I'd sat up straight. "My delightful sense of humour?"  
"Your tests came back positive." He shifted and removed one arm from in front of his chest to push the folder closer to me.  
I opened the file and was immediately met with images of the man I'd killed hardly a week before. After examining a picture taken at a particularly good angle, I lifted my eyes to him.  
"You've got the X-Gene." He smiled. I could tell he was trying to get me to give something away.  
"I--"  
Couldn't finish the sentence. At least, I pretended I couldn't. In reality, I was having something morbidly similar to fun, tossing around ignorance and playing pretend.  
"You what?" The cocky prick reached his hands all the way across the table as if gloating about the fact that he could and turned the page again. "Can't deny it?"  
"I-I wasn't--" I breathed a shaky breath and stared at him in wide-eyed fear. "I'm not a killer!"  
"Sure you're not, I believe you." He stood, closing the file and taking it with him. The smile on his face widened and he started to leave.  
The moment he was gone and the door closed, I slammed my forehead down on the table. Having that damn X-Gene packed in with the rest of your DNA did nothing to make your life easier. Most of us mutants--one of the more insulting euphemisms, but also the most popular of them--lived our life in hiding until we eventually landed six feet under from causes we hoped were natural. Some of us hid in plain sight, acting like normal people and getting jobs and actually living, while some of us that are physically mutated (big eyes, oddly-coloured skin, things that are basically the mutant red flags) have to stay away from society. The world was pretty much run by different mobs, and mutants that were especially unlucky would end up tangled in the branches of one. That's where I was. I'd gotten tangled young, and had somehow managed to climb pretty high as my pathetic life drew on. It was a mob that had gotten me into the mess I was in, and it was a mob that wouldn't bother lifting a finger to help me out. I'd gotten good at pretending, when my mutant-ness was found out, that I was one of the lucky ones that could actually get normal jobs and work at cafés and pretend there was nothing wrong with the world as I drank tea every afternoon--just like normal people.  
I lifted my head slightly and dropped my head down on the table again. "Fuck."  
There wasn't any way out of this without either sitting here a couple more days (weeks, potentially) or throwing the fact that I was the one who'd done it into their pig faces. Again, I hit my head. It would start hurting soon, but Jack Hollander wouldn't care and I would care even less.  
If I was going to get out of this, I had to keep my guard up. At all times. To everyone.


	2. Chapter I Part II

"Are you sleeping?"  
I lifted my head. When did he get in here? Had I been so focused on slamming my head on the desk to notice him? Or maybe I had drifted off for a while, like he'd suggested.  
It didn't matter. He'd entered and I hadn't noticed and it never turned out well when I didn't notice things. I'd made it a habit to notice everything. Even the chipped piece on the very edge of the one-way glass, presumably from an angry guest they hadn't gifted with both hands cuffed to the table.  
"Hard to sleep like this." I lifted both hands, shaking the cuffs and turning to see whoever was there. He smirked, both muscular arms crossed over his chest. I'd never met someone that didn't cross their arms when I looked at them. On certain occasions, they would already have had them crossed. Children were exceptions, as I'd never really actually spoken to any.  
"In the handcuffs or the metal chair?"  
"Chair's fine. Can't lean back too much, thanks to the cuffs." I looked back out at the wall. "I have an itch on my nose, too, that's really bugging me."  
"I ain't scratching it for you." He said as he sat across from me, obstructing my view from the wall I'd been looking at. I realized, from the nagging sensation at the back of my skull, that he was a mutant.  
I shrugged. "I didn't expect you to."  
He nodded, pulling the cigar out of his mouth to pick at the tobacco stuck between his front teeth. I smirked.  
"To what do I owe the pleasure of speaking with the mighty Hercules?"  
"Right. That." He jutted the tip of the cigar towards the one-way glass. "The people that were in there are gone. For now."  
"And?"  
"Big man is waiting for you in your apartment. He has another job for you."  
I nodded. "All right. Okay, and um, what?"  
"I'm the big man's right-hand. He sent me after you because you're apparently special." He shrugged and got up, then started to leave. Before he stepped out the door, he turned back and said, "I wouldn't recommend letting him wait."  
When the door closed, I felt myself smile. I twisted my hands and squeezed them out of the cuffs. He wasn't a cop, that much was obvious. Slightly less obvious was the fact that he had nothing to do with the "big man". The mob I had gotten caught in made their own moonshine and cigarettes and--a very important thing to know in my situation--cigars. His cigar did not have the insignia. He'd either be beaten to death or disowned. Plus, I'd met the boss' group of higher ups. He didn't have a right-hand man, just a small circle of people he trusted more than everyone else.  
I stood up from the seat and walked towards the door. When I opened it, no one was around to stop me. I shoved my hands into my pockets and walked through. The halls, the offices, the waiting room, they were all empty. No one was around at all. I wondered, for a moment, what they'd done, then shook it away. I just needed to know who was waiting for me at my apartment and what they intended to do. Kill me, maybe? The thought was nice, but I'd preferred to not waste my time and decided against going back. Instead, when I stepped out of the god forsaken building I'd spent three days in, I turned and walked in the opposite direction. I increased the distance between me and my potential enemy as much as possible. Any threat was bad. Especially threats that pose as allies.  
I ended up in the park. The clouds above me were harsh and dark against the moonlit sky, so I decided to take cover on a bench beneath a big oak tree. It wasn't the best protection from the inevitable rain, but it was better than standing exposed and risk getting soaked. I hated being wet. Clothes that were even slightly damp were cold, and the cold was my bane. None of my mutated abilities seemed to work properly when I was cold. It was also uncomfortable to walk around in heavy clothes that hang loosely around you body, with socks that scrunch whenever you take a step and shoes that squeak. No. I preferred to stay out of the rain.  
The bench was wooden, its metal arm rests and legs glistening from what little light made it through the leaves of the oak. A heart was carved into the seat, with the initials CL+AM inside. Rather than wonder who it was that had so obviously been in love, I lifted my eyes to look up at the branches twisting and separating above me. I could spot a few stars twinkling through the canopy of nature, but they were few.  
My cellphone, which I'd taken back along with everything else that had been taken from me--my personal effects, they called it, as if anything could actually be called mine--started to ring. No one but my boss would bother using my cellphone to get to me, anyone else who would want to talk to me would pick me off the streets and bring me somewhere secret. Or they'd show up at my apartment. But I wasn't there, so it didn't matter.  
When I saw the caller ID, I knew I'd been right. His righteousness had set his name as "Dad" so people would assume that's who it was in the case that I lost my cellphone. Not that I would, I was neater than even he was.  
"Hello?"  
"Where are you?" He barked. Straight to the point. No different from every other time he called.  
"In a park."  
I could almost hear him sneering. "I need you. Tell me where you are and I'll send someone to get you."  
"Well, I'm under an oak tree."  
"What park are you at?"  
I nearly hung up on him, but decided against it. He'd probably get irrationally mad and set a bounty on my head. It had happened before to someone else, and he'd expressed to me later after the announcement of his death that he was probably mistaken in getting him killed.  
"I don't know. A big one?" I shrugged. "I don't remember names, I remember landmarks. I don't even know my own address."  
"And you remember that address from that TV show?"  
"221B Baker Street." I recited for the umpteenth time. I'd been shocked when he'd payed for me to get cable, and I had actually gotten into a few of the programs I found.  
"That one." He grumbled. "Damn useless. Look, there should be a sign somewhere around with the name of the park. Find it."  
"There's a sign right beside me."  
"And what does it say?"  
I smiled. "No littering."  
"That's not--"  
"I never said it was the sign with the park's name." I stood from the bench and started looking through the park for the right sign, all the while answering his questions about where I've been and what I've been doing, why I hadn't answered any of his calls. He was pissed when he found out I'd been caught and was in prison. "Oh, there it is. Yellowstone."  
"Yellowstone?" He repeated. "Why are you all the way in Yellowstone?"  
"I don't know why I'm all the way anywhere." I spun around, looking for my bench. "I don't know where I am."  
"All the way across the city from the apartment."  
Ah, right. The apartment. It wasn't mine, it never was. Nothing except my clothes were actually mine. Everything else was compliments of him. Not really compliments, either. He only let me have it because I needed it. Except cable. I was almost sure cable was compliments.  
"All right, get to the North end." He ordered me. I knew better than to say anything even slightly against his orders. I had done it too many times. I still had the scars.  
Then again, I never really learned any lessons. "North?"  
"Yes. You know where North is, don't you?" He snapped, growing impatient. "I don't have to walk you through it, do I?"  
"Oh, no, but I'm looking right now and I'm already at the South side."  
"Then get to the North."  
"All right, okay," I started the walk, "but it's a big park. It'll take me a while, I probably won't be there first."  
"North."  
So I'd succeeded in pissing him off. Now I just had to stay out of arm's length from him. It was almost easy. Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My new favourite thing is now Logan trying to be a mob thug


	3. Chapter I Part III

When I stepped out of the car, I was met with a big, luxurious hotel. There was no doubt he'd taken the most expensive room he could. Whether it was so he wouldn't be interrupted or to assert himself, I wasn't sure.

All the people around me were rich. They had enough money to spend a few nights in a hotel like this, whereas I hardly had enough money to sleep in the lobby. I got more than a few looks as I told the man at the counter I was meeting someone, and they didn't go away until after I'd stepped into the elevator. Of course, having tattoos and piercings and wearing the clothes I wore made me stand out drastically from everyone else.

I wandered through the halls in search of the right room. I passed one of the doors, then it opened and someone reached out to grab the back of my shirt and pull me in. I stumbled slightly when he let go, but righted myself before I fell.

Across the room, each in separate chairs, were two men. One of them was my boss, the other was unfamiliar. They both had glasses of alcohol, and were probably discussing my "talents" over their drinks. It had happened before. My boss liked to brag about how capable his men were.

"You're late." He snapped, not even bothering to look at me.

"It was a big park."

He shifted, licked his lips, and looked over at me. "Don't get smart."

The other man snorted, but didn't speak. I glanced over at him (he kept his eyes on his cup, probably to avoid looking at me) then back at my boss. A smile crossed his face and he looked at the unfamiliar man.

"This is the one I told you about." He gestured vaguely in my direction. "I can't bother remembering his real name, but in official documents, he's Jack Hollander."

Can't bother. I knew he was shallow, but I wasn't sure if he did. Now he admits it openly. Casually, even. As if remembering someone's name was a chore, like washing the dishes. Or maybe it was just me he didn't care enough for.

"Jack." The man finally looked at me, just thinking. Of what, I didn't know. I almost wished I'd met someone who could read minds, just so I could find out what he was thinking of. He lifted a hand to rub it over the balding top of his head. "I knew a Jack once."

I didn't say anything, and he seemed almost disappointed before saying. "I had him killed."

Lovely.

"He disobeyed me and did what he thought should have been done." The man looked off towards the window he and my boss were sat at. "Two hundred of my men died, and over a thousand put out of commission. He lived. Not for long, of course, but long enough to live half a decade more of luxury."

He took a sip of his drink. "That prick."

"This Jack is better than him." My boss assured him, sending me a glance that told me I had to prove him right. The consequences of failing to do so depended on who this man was to him and what the task I had yet to be given was. "Isn't that right?"

"I wouldn't know." I replied, ignoring the sudden anger in his gaze. "I never met the other."

"Oh, you wouldn't have." The other man shrugged without even bothering to look at me. Their respect for me was so great it almost made me cry. "He was dead before you were born." He glanced over at me and looked me up and down. "I assume. How old are you?"

"Nineteen."

"Hm. Long before you were born." He chuckled. "I was nineteen when he died."

Nineteen? So he must have inherited whatever mob he was the leader of. Or killed everyone else with a rank above him. I'd seen both happen. I, for one, didn't even want to make it to the top, I just wanted out.

But I'd seen others try to run. It never ended pretty. Unless you considered a room full of corpses strung up by hooks through their heads pretty, of course. I didn't fancy having a hook shoved through the back of my neck.

The stranger smirked. My boss shifted in his seat to turn fully towards me. "You're going to Australia."

"Australia?"

"Mhm." He put his cup on the table and instead laced his fingers together. "There's a group of people there that want him--" he hooked his thumb towards the other man "--dead. After all his people are wiped off the map, Lord knows what they'll do."

I crossed my arms. "So you want me to get rid of them?"

He nodded thoughtfully. "The only problem is that we don't know who they are. All we know is that they're posing as college students."

"Coll--" I nearly laughed. If he said he was going to enroll me in college for a man I didn't know, he must have been mad.

"You won't be allowed on campus unless you're a student or teacher." A shadow fell over his features. The last thing he'd wanted to do was let me go to college. It was just one step closer to me having my own life. If he had it his way, I'd be working under him until I died. He knew I wanted to leave. Having me go to college meant I'd be able to hold my own if I ever got away safely.

"You aren't qualified to be a teacher."

"Aww, you're paying for my education."

"Can it." He rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. "They've already accepted you. According to the documents, you're a straight-A student. Don't mess that up."

"Well, with no previous education, I'm sure I'll do fine." I smiled slightly, knowing every word that came out of my mouth was pissing him off more.

"Look, we don't have all day." He snapped as he got to his feet. "The car is waiting for you outside, it'll take you to the jet, and then there'll be another car there. As for accommodations, you'll be living in the college dorms. There weren't any more apartments in the city. Your stuff is all on the jet already. Or it should be, at least."

I left the hotel room and headed down to the car that was, just as he said, waiting for me. First America and now Australia. I was going international.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the last part of chapter 1!  
> After this the story is gonna take a few really weird turns  
> But it's cool. It's fine. No one dies, except like five people.


End file.
